


I love you and I miss you

by fardareismai



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Drunk Driving, F/M, Heavy Angst, Self-Destruction, Sort of happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7719169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fardareismai/pseuds/fardareismai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love writes a letter and sends it to Hate:<br/>"My vacation's ending, I'm coming home late<br/>The weather was fine and the ocean was great<br/>And I can't wait to see you again."</p><p> </p><p>  <strong>Captain Swan Angst based on the Avett Brothers' song The Ballad of Love and Hate</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	I love you and I miss you

_May_

"You're leaving me."

"I'm not leaving _you,_ I'm just… leaving."

"So you'd let me come with you?"

"You can't leave your job like that and I… I can't stay."

"Not even long enough for me to get leave from my job? That's running away, Emma. Running from me."

"It's not."

"You can lie to yourself if you like, but you can't lie to me. How long is this going to take? A week? A month? A year?"

"I… I don't know. Until I'm sure."

"Sure of me?"

"No! Sure of _me_! I… I have to do this, Killian. I have to figure this out. I'll… I'll write you?"

"Honestly? I'd rather you didn't."

~?~?~?~?~

_June_

She'd kept her promise at least. She'd sent the postcard to David, not to him. But surely she had to know that David would show it to him? That David would read it out loud at Mary Margaret's "friend-family dinner" she threw every month. That he'd see it.

The vindictive bitch.

_Dear David and Mary Margaret,_

_You asked me to keep you updated, so I'm letting you know that I'm doing well. The weather has been amazing so far, and the Bug hasn't crapped out on me yet. Thank Tink for giving it a once-over for me. If I don't end up pushing the old thing up too many hills on this trip, it'll be entirely thanks to her. This week I'm in Pennsylvania. I've seen more Amish than I've ever seen before and eaten more homemade bread as a consequence._

_I love you all, and I miss you._

_ES_

The picture on the front of the card was typically Emma. It had a picture of the outline of the state, with a buggy driving across it and said "Pennsylvania, mostly living in the 21st century."

Imagining her green eyes sparkling as she picked it out made him reach for the bottle of wine that was sitting between Tink and Belle and refill his glass.

When the conversation turned to Emma's "great adventure" he decided he deserved to just keep the damned bottle.

~?~?~?~?~

_July_

Lake Michigan was cold.

Emma could almost hear him reminding her that she'd hardly ever been in warm water. Maine was always cold even, like now, well into the summer.

His voice in her ear made her stop being squeamish and run out into the near-frigid water and dive in, the cold rushing past her face and through her hair like his fingers.

Except that he'd always been warm.

Resurfacing, and finding the warm sun a blessing on chilled skin, she flipped over to float in the sweet, still water and compose her next postcard to her brother and his wife.

_Dear David and Mary Margaret,_

_Lake Michigan is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen._

It's the same colour as Killian's eyes when the sun hits the deep parts just right.

_I've been driving along it because I've been told that Lake Superior, the north-most lake is the most beautiful. It's the deepest and the most dangerous. There are actual shipwrecks there._

He would have loved to see that- the ships and the history.

_It's so large, you can't see across it. One of the biggest bodies of water in the world, and it looks like the ocean._

But it didn't taste of salt-spray the way his kisses always had when he came back from his own little sailboat off the Atlantic.

_I'm doing well. I think I'm learning a lot doing this. Don't worry for me. I know you will anyway, but I'd consider it a favor if you didn't do it too much._

Since the person she most wanted to be worrying for her wasn't.

_I love you, and I miss you,_

I love him, and I miss him.

_ES_

~?~?~?~?~

August

August was the busiest month for the harbour tour business. He told himself he wouldn't have seen her much during this month anyway.

That was, of course, a lie. He'd have gone home to her every night. He'd have eaten across from her and slept beside her, and she'd occasionally have shown up on the dock with a lunch she'd made because sometimes she did that when her duties as sheriff weren't too onerous.

Instead, and in spite of his wishes, all he had were her words.

_Dear David and Mary Margaret,_

_All my love from Nashville! You two will have to come eventually, David would love it. Everything is just a little cheezy and, naturally, absolutely obsessed with country music._

_And barbeque. They love barbeque. I've probably gained 20 pounds entirely in pork and sauce since coming here._

_Make sure everyone up there knows I'm thinking of them. I've picked up presents for everyone almost. I got several books for Belle- histories of the most interesting places I've been. I've grabbed about 20 spice rubs for the tavern for Robin. Shot glasses for Tink of course, and coffee mugs for Mary Margaret._

_I love you and I miss you,_

_ES_

She didn't mention him. She never had. A postcard or e-mail every week or so, and she never said anything about him. She'd managed to mention Belle's estranged husband Gold before she'd even written Killian's name.

He waved the last tour off the boat with a charming smile. He was always good at charming. The ladies loved him as he spoke in his smooth, soft accent and grinned and winked and flirted with every one of them.

As soon as they were off, however, the smile vanished, and so did he, into the depths of the boat. He settled himself in the small cabin he occasionally slept in, and dug out his bottle of rum.

He'd found, since she'd left and his bed (even the small berth on his ship) was too big and too cold without her, that three or four shots of rum made the nights pass much easier.

~?~?~?~?~

September

Emma picked her way through the first of the Saint Louis cemeteries, the guidebook open in her hands. Most people went to the grave of Marie Laveau as her grave was said to grant wishes, but Emma was more interested in Barthelemy Lafon, who'd been a pirate.

_Dear David and Mary Margaret,_

_I met a pirate today. Well, "met" may be a little bit too grand for what happened, as he's been dead for the better part of three-hundred years, but they do say that if you want to come across a ghost, New Orleans is the place to do it._

How is my pirate? Is he well? Is he happy? Has he moved on?

Every month it killed her not to ask of him. Not to write to him. Not to call.

_Tell Belle that she'd love New Orleans in the autumn. Obviously in the summer it's full of college kids being stupid, but we're reaching the end of tourist season, and it's before Halloween, and right now the ghosts are more peaceful than scary. She'd like that._

Killian would like it too. He'd love to find the funniest names and make up stories about them. He'd love tasting new rum drinks and then tasting them on her tongue once she'd tried them herself.

He'd said not to contact him, and she was doing her best, but it was breaking her heart.

_I love you and I miss you,_

_ES_

~?~?~?~?~

_October_

Killian could hear the children on deck, waiting for his performance as the Dread Pirate Hook, with ghostly tales of the sea. He'd pop out of one of the hatches, startling some of them (though most of the kids had been to this show since they were too small to remember) and making all of them cheer.

It was the same every year.

_Dear David and Mary Margaret,_

He knocked back another shot of rum to try to drown out the sound of her voice in his head.

_I'm in Galveston, TX, staying at a famously haunted hotel for Halloween._

One more and surely she'd be gone. There'd be no more laughing soft voice that seemed to echo in their house on the rare occasion that he went back. Five months, and her perfume still lingered in the air in that damned place.

_The Gulf is beautiful- all stormy and dark this time of year._

The ship seemed to rock, though it was moored in the harbour. The words of the story were getting mixed up in his head- did the skeletons dance before or after the treasure was buried in the cove? Was this the story of Captain Kidd or Black Bartelmy?

_The storms on the water throw up some of the most beautiful shells, and these lovely things- they're a type of starfish- called sand dollars. When they're green they're alive and you have to throw them back, but sometimes you can find them bleached white and rubbed clean by the sand. When you find a whole one, it's good luck._

_I've sent you a picture of the one I found._

He couldn't hear Belle shouting his cue over the rush of blood in his ears. Everything was tossing and turning and all he seemed able to focus on was the photograph of the white circle with the star in the middle that David had shown him on his phone that afternoon.

What luck was she looking for?

Belle opened the hatch to look down at him and, after only a second, closed it immediately. He could almost hear her hurried explanation to the kids that Captain Hook's ghost must be haunting somewhere else, but she'd be able to tell them the story of Dem Bones herself.

_I love you and I miss you,_

_ES_

~?~?~?~?~

November

She imagined Mary Margaret's dining room on Thanksgiving afternoon as she drove through another Indian reservation in Oklahoma. It would be warmly lit, full of food, full of family who were friends, and friends who were family.

It would be home.

_Dear David and Mary Margaret,_

The winds whipped against the side of her car. Oklahoma was a windy state. She'd thought she would find a place to stay for the night but everywhere was closed down.

It was a night for family.

_I spent Thanksgiving on an Indian Reservation, in the greatest of traditions of this country. I think it's important to acknowledge the crimes that brought us this holiday as well as the joys._

No. She couldn't write that. Mary Margaret would worry that she was getting morose.

_I spent Thanksgiving on an Indian Reservation. I hadn't intended to, but it's where I found myself. Not found myself like I have been trying to do on this trip, but found myself in that I just kind of ended up here._

That wouldn't do either. She wished she had Killian's way with words. She'd woken up on November first and realized that she'd missed his stint as the ghost pirate and her heart had broken.

_I spent Thanksgiving in Oklahoma, driving through Indian reservations and thinking about the worst things that have ever happened in this country._

She imagined him at Mary Margaret's place now. He'd probably made shepherd's pie, because he did every Thanksgiving, insisting that there isn't a traditional English Thanksgiving dish because they don't celebrate Thanksgiving across the pond.

_I didn't celebrate Thanksgiving this year because I don't feel like giving thanks. I have felt nothing but regret for three weeks._

He'd look at her with those blue eyes that caught the candlelight in the centre of the table and he'd grin that grin that said that nothing would please him more than to get her alone in Mary Margaret's pantry for seven minutes in heaven, like they'd all done in high school.

_I thought about you all at Thanksgiving. About how David would be carving the turkey while you poured the wine. How Belle would find some way to spoil the mashed potatoes, even though she'd checked with you a dozen times. How Tink would get gravy on her shirt, and how Regina would push her apple pie on everyone, even though we'd all been stuffed to the gills because she loves it when people like her food._

That would be better. Mary Margaret wouldn't worry about her if she talked about them instead of herself.

_And how Killian always said that he was thankful that, after losing his family, he'd found a new one in us, and how it always seemed like it was cheezy, but we knew it was completely sincere._

And how he'd always looked at her when he said it and she'd known that, for all he loved all of them, it was she who was his family now, in truth. She couldn't write it in her letter, but she knew.

_I love you, and I miss you,_

_ES_

~?~?~?~?~

_December_

There were no lights in his house. No Christmas tree. No gifts.

There were three bottles of rum and a lingering smell of her soap in the bathroom that was driving him mad.

_Dear David and Mary Margaret,_

_I'm in Boulder for Christmas._

She should be home for Christmas. She should be with him for Christmas. They should be giggling at the fact that their friends were all visiting their parents and blessing the fact that the one benefit to being orphans was that they didn't have to go anywhere when travel was so iffy with snow and ice.

They would drink eggnog and make love before the fire and cuddle while watching children's movies, and sing along drunkenly, and kiss, and touch, and talk and just be together.

It was much harder to be an orphan at Christmas when you didn't have anyone to be your family.

_The snow is beautiful here, but not as beautiful as Maine._

She was never coming home.

_I love you, and I miss you,_

_ES_

He tipped back the bottle, not bothering with a glass.

~?~?~?~?~

_January_

The man named Neal leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth.

_Dear Mary Margaret,_

_I'm sorry, but I can't write to David about this, though I'm sure he'll know when you tell him. Whatever you do, please don't tell Killian._

They'd practically run into each other trying to pay the same parking meter in downtown Phoenix as they waited for the New Year's fireworks to start.

_He introduced himself as Neal and asked if I wanted to watch the fireworks with him. I feel like I've hardly spoken to anyone in weeks except to order food or buy coffee, and it seemed nice._

He'd seen that her coat wasn't thick enough and had given her his. It'd smelled pleasantly of cologne and male sweat, but not of salt sea and rum. It hadn't smelled right, and while it had been warm, she'd given it back quickly.

_The fireworks were beautiful, and it was midnight, and he said it was good luck to kiss at midnight on New Year's. It starts the year off right._

His beard had been too short and too rough. His lips too wet. His tongue too insistent. His hand that had been holding hers was too soft and too small. When he'd put them on her waist, they'd been too rough.

_I wish I hadn't, Mary Margaret. I wish I'd bypassed Phoenix completely. I'd be happier now._

_Please, I beg you, don't tell Killian._

_I love you and I miss you,_

_ES_

~?~?~?~?~

February

Killian knocked the back of his head against the granite tombstone that bore the name Liam Jones.

_Dear David and Mary Margaret,_

He'd only seen that the postcard was from Vegas before he'd fled David's place that morning. After what had happened at New Year's- she _had_ to know Mary Margaret couldn't keep a secret to save her life- he didn't want to hear about her whirlwind wedding with Phoenix-guy-named-Neal.

He'd pumped rum into his system then driven down to the cemetery with another bottle in the car. He'd thrown up half of it just inside the gates, so he figured he deserved to open the new bottle.

 _Dear faithless bitch,_ he started composing in his head. _On Valentine's Day, because the one person in the whole, twice-damned, motherfucking world that I love was off with her new lover in Phoenix where she is "finding herself" I slept with one of the waitresses at the Rabbit Hole._

He should, perhaps, remember her name. He wasn't sure he'd bothered to ask. He absolutely couldn't remember her face.

He took another long swig from the bottle, one swallow, two, three, four. He came up gasping. He couldn't feel the burn of the rum anymore, and he wasn't sure if the world was spinning or he was.

_Don't come back to Storybrooke, Emma Swan, queen of manipulative, lying, bitches. You're no longer wanted. If you ever come back, I'll be long gone. You had your chance and you chose fuckin' Neal-from-Phoenix over me._

_I offered you a proper wedding in a proper church with a proper ring, and you chose an Elvis impersonator and a man you'd met less than a month before._

Liam had it easy, Killian thought, resting his head against the gravestone again. No women troubles where he was. Yes, it would be nice- the Brothers Jones as once they'd been. No women. Nothing that tied either of them down. Just sailing off into that final sunset.

_I won't be here for another spring, Emma Swan. Don't come looking for me._

_I don't love you, and I don't miss you,_

_KJ_

~?~?~?~?~

_March_

_Dear David and Mary Margaret,_

_I'm on my way to Portland, and then I'm coming home. This is quite enough. I was never going to find myself out here. I belong there with my family._

_I belong there with Killian._

_Please tell him… tell him I'm coming home to him. Tell him how much I love him. Tell him… don't tell him anything, because I'll do it when I get there._

_I love you, and I miss you,_

_ES_

The phone rang as Emma drove along the steep cliffs, the Pacific Ocean on one side, a huge Redwood Forest on the other. The radio had lost signal somewhere outside of San Francisco, or she'd never have heard it.

"Emma, it's David. I know we promised we wouldn't call you while you were on this trip, but there's been an accident."

~?~?~?~?~

_April_

She held his right hand between her two hands, not looking at the bandage that was entirely not in the shape of a hand on the other side. She would get used to it, as would he, but for now it was still jarring.

What was worse was that he hadn't woken up.

"Killian," she whispered, not wanting to disturb the other patient in the room, "I thought about you every single place I went. I thought about how the ocean would be more beautiful through your eyes. I thought about how you could make the history more exciting. I thought about how the long stretches where I was just driving would have been better… so much better, Kil, if you'd been there with me. I didn't find myself out there, you know. I should have known better. I was always here. Wherever you are, from now on, that's where I am, okay? I promise."

The machines continued their strident beeping and shushing and he didn't move.

"I love you and I miss you," she whispered, and the tears coursed down her face.

~?~?~?~?~

_May_

"I fell apart without you, Emma. I think I might have done it on purpose."

"I know."

"You might be better off if you went back out there- go to Portland and just… stay."

"I should never have gone in the first place, I don't think repeating the mistake would make it any better."

"It's not going to be like it was, love. It's never going to be like that again."

"I know. Do you still have that ring?"

"Aye. But I… can't. Not anymore. Not like this."

"Yeah, I understand. But when you're ready, Killian, I am."

"I'm sorry, Love."

"What for? I shouldn't have gone. I knew practically the moment I left what I needed to know: I'm yours and that's it. Whatever else happens, that's it. I'm yours, forever."


End file.
